


Never Enough

by therachan



Series: The Evolution of an Affair [1]
Category: Midsomer Murders - All Media Types
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:36:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26087314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therachan/pseuds/therachan
Summary: Barnaby and Troy find themselves threatened with dinner. But an hour alone beforehand is some consolation.A quick little vignette of a moment early in their affair.
Relationships: Tom Barnaby/Gavin Troy
Series: The Evolution of an Affair [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1927774
Comments: 10
Kudos: 18
Collections: Midsomer_Melee





	Never Enough

**Author's Note:**

  * For [two (nowstfucallicles)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowstfucallicles/gifts).



> My first foray into fanfiction, constructive criticism is welcomed! Though it was born out of the need for more fics with this pairing, I do blame nowstfucallicles for its very existence.

“Oh Tom, I’ve forgotten the rambutan.” Joyce’s voice was irritated. She riffled through the bag of groceries on the counter with one hand, stirring the green pot bubbling on the stove with the other. “And the leeks.” 

Tom, sitting at the table, looked up over his magazine. “Rambutan, Joyce?” 

She moved to the fridge, tsking at herself and rummaging through the vegetable drawers. “For the fruit salad,” she said from within. 

“And the leeks?” he ventured, crossing his fingers in hopes they weren’t to be part of the same dish. 

“For the soup.” She’d emerged again, pulling some bag of dubious looking greenery from the crisper and inspecting it. “I’ll have to go get some. The soup will be okay but I really wanted to make that salad.” 

Tom took off his readers and stifled a smile. “Well Joyce I would offer to nip down the market for you but I’m not sure I’d know a ramalan if I saw one.” 

“Rambutan,” she said with a little eye roll, well aware of the smile Tom tried to hide. “And they don’t have them there, I’ll have to go the farmer’s market across town to get it. Oh, it will take at least an hour,” she said plaintively. “You won’t mind if dinner is a little late?” 

“No, no,” he said lightly, watching her look through her purse for her keys. “It must be perfect. In fact, give us a call when you’re on your way back. I’ll have your wine ready.” 

Joyce moved the pot off the heat and came back to Tom at the table. She kissed the top of his head. “Ask Gavin if he wants to stay for dinner,” she said over her shoulder. “After the day you’ve had, I’m sure he could use a glass too!” Then, she was gone. 

“I’ll go right up,” Tom said lightly to the empty room. He waited a few more minutes until he heard the car pull out of the drive. Then he ventured to the front door, bolted the latch just in case, and turned for the stairs. 

The day had been a rough one, Joyce was certainly right about that. The culmination of their latest case was a long, drawn out tromp through the muddy woods, working behind Troy who tended to run ahead in these matters. Barnaby wasn’t sure how many shoes the DS had ruined in the line of their work but he never seemed to worry about that in the moment. So when Troy had finally caught up with their suspect and Barnaby was still too far behind to help, there was a violent tussle before he watched both men ahead of him go practically headfirst into the oxbow. The water had been stagnant for months, and it was probably the worst drive home either of them had had in quite some time. Troy’s suit was almost certainly ruined. In fact, his whole kit was sitting in a trash bag by the bin outside. Barnaby’s house being closer by, and the DCI having some guilt- not a lot, but some- about his poor sergeant’s sodden situation, he’d offered a shower, a bottle of wine, and a hot dinner to make up for it. Joyce had ushered Troy upstairs to the shower immediately, tutting about getting some old sweats of her husband’s for him. 

Tom could hear the shower still running and he glanced at his watch. His sergeant had had plenty of time to wash and was likely now just enjoying getting warm again. He opened the bathroom door silently to a puff of cloudy steam and there Tom stopped for a moment, watching Troy's form through the frosted glass. He reached out and flipped the fan on. 

“Enjoying yourself?” he said loudly so that he could be heard over the sound of the water. He watched Troy startle and turn, so tall that on his tiptoes he could glance over the shower door. 

“Sir! What are you doing up here?” he didn’t really make a move to hide himself, not that Tom could see much besides shapes through the glass. But he had at least turned his back, feigning modesty anyway, as he should. 

“Joyce wants to know if you’d like to stay for dinner,” Tom answered, lowering his voice again to a normal tone as Troy turned the taps off, probably feeling guilty for the amount of hot water he’d been using. 

“I suppose that depends on what’s for dinner,” Troy replied and Tom could hear the grin in his voice. He opened the door and stuck his head out. “Can you hand me a towel, Sir?” 

Tom had leaned back against the sink and crossed his arms. “No Sergeant, we don’t have any towels in this house.” 

His sergeant looked at him blankly for a second. His eyes darted to the towels hanging not two feet from Tom’s elbow. 

“You will have to come out and, eh,” he paused, “drip dry.” 

Now Troy leaned out and looked around a bit more. He was suspicious of Tom’s ease and his DCI practically watched the thoughts playing through his head and across his face. Troy had a hard time believing Tom would tease him in this way with his wife downstairs. So surely he must not be teasing, but there was a towel right there…? He lowered his voice, as if he were afraid Joyce was behind the door. “Sir?” 

“She’s gone to the market, Troy,” Tom relented. “For at least an hour.” Now he watched the realization spread on the younger man’s face in the relaxation of his brow down to the sudden wide grin. “So what do you deduce from that?” he asked. 

“That you’re really not going to hand me that towel, and I might need another shower, Sir?” Troy answered cheekily. 

Tom leaned forward, arms still crossed. “Correct. And I deduce that for the next hour you will stop calling me ‘Sir’, and hurry yourself up out of there.” 

Troy stepped out all the way, little beads of water still running down the lines of his long body. Tom breathed out a little appreciative sigh and tilted his head at the sight, not sure if he would ever truly get used to this view. These stolen moments between them were so rare and were often too hurried, leaving little physical room or time to shed any clothing. Perhaps opening a few buttons or a fly at most. To see Troy here in all this naked glory deserved a moment of appreciation. He was half-mast already and at the sight Tom had felt a sharp spike of heat drill to his core, and his own cock twitched and began to pulse. 

“Are you sure, Sir? Er, Tom?” Troy said quietly. “If it’s too much of a risk-“ 

“Troy, I was the one who came up here, was I not?” Tom admonished. He pulled the towel from the rack and closed the space between them. “I could’ve spent a nice quiet time downstairs on my own, enjoying my wine and reading in blessed, sacred silence. And you would’ve been none the wiser of our missed opportunity.” He reached up and scrubbed the towel gently over Troy’s short cropped hair. He brought it down over his strong shoulders, blotting his body dry in slow movements to soften the acerbity of his words. “But I am here, because to miss an opportunity to do this,” he slowly dragged the towel down Troy’s chest and belly, the soft material belying the solid surfaces underneath, “and to see this-“ he pulled the towel away, “is not something within my powers, I’m afraid.” Fully erect now, Troy’s shaft stood out straight towards him below a patch of dark, glistening hair, the head already deep purple. Even as Tom watched a tiny drop formed at its tip and he sighed again. It was really a lovely thing to see, this secret part of his DS standing in all its glory. Because of him. 

“Tom?” Troy whispered. His clear blue eyes were still a little hesitant but excitement was beginning to take over. 

“Shh,” Tom shushed, “I never do really get to look at you.” He gazed upon the beauty of the young man before him, noting without meaning to the differences in their bodies across an almost 30 year age gap. He didn’t really feel envious of Troy’s youth however; he wasn’t so vain as that. Besides, how could he be envious of something he got to possess? Something that was given to him so freely in these secret moments? 

Troy stepped closer to Tom, impatient as ever with his boss’s reverie but trying not to show it. He nuzzled Tom’s ear and then, finding no resistance, moved smoothly to his mouth, opening up gently to take in their first kiss in… had it really been weeks? He took the towel and dropped it out of the way, moving in and pressing his body up against Tom’s. Their kiss deepened as Tom’s hands came up to touch bare skin, running up Troy’s back, feeling the smooth musculature there, the heated flesh still damp from the shower. He acquiesced to the pressure Troy was putting on him and backed up against the sink again. His sergeant’s hands were cupping his face tenderly and it made him smile into the kiss. Troy may be a rash and headstrong DS, even a bit of an arse sometimes, but he was a lovely kisser. 

His kisses had traveled from Tom’s mouth to his neck, where he pulled away the collar of his half-opened shirt. “How much time do we really have?” Troy breathed, lips pressed against flushed skin. 

Tom opened his eyes and saw the ceiling come into focus. _Never enough,_ is what he wanted to say, but couldn’t do it. He didn’t want to dampen the moment and make it heavy. God knew he did that enough when he had to put the brakes on Troy if the moment was too risky. To his credit his DS never argued or glowered about it, for it was implicitly understood that Tom was the decision maker here, the one with the most to lose. But Tom didn’t want to think about that right now. He ran his hands down Troy’s back and further, cupping his arse, fingers fairly digging in. He pulled Troy’s hips tightly against his, hearing the moan come as each felt the other’s hardness press in sweet pressure despite the maddening clothing between them. Troy shifted so that his cock was pressed against Tom’s hip and he began to slowly rub himself back and forth. 

“We have enough,” Tom answered, lifting his chin again. Normally Troy’s height didn’t bother him much except in moments like this when he had to lean up like a delicate debutant for a kiss. He couldn’t swoop insistently down as Troy did, taking his mouth in a decidedly manly way. Tom always felt like he had to ask for it from this angle, but Troy had never denied him. Not once. 

Poor Troy. He was so patient in this of all things. And he really had had a rough day. 

Tom disengaged his mouth with some effort and looked into Troy’s face. The younger man was breathing harder, a lovely flush coloring his face, his lips a little swollen from the force of their kisses. Tom sank to his knees slowly, feeling their embarrassing but blessedly silent crack. But at least they didn’t hurt; he wasn’t that decrepit yet. Troy’s cock bobbed in front of him and he placed a hand on his sergent’s hip and looked up at him again. The younger man was gazing down, his hand having fallen to Tom’s head and was stroking his hair a bit. His normally light blue eyes were so dark now in arousal, half closed in ease and want. There was a little smile playing at the corner of his mouth. 

He tasted a little salty, the first tang always a little surprising to Tom. He didn’t do this often and was still doubtful of his technique, but as Troy’s fingers ran through his hair and his hips began to thrust ever so slightly towards him, he let his worry subside. Above him he heard the quiet moan, a whisper of his name under breath as if they still had to be quiet in the empty house. He brought his hand up to grasp the shaft now that Troy was starting to move with him and let his teeth just barely scrape the velvety flesh and the underlying solid core. He was rewarded with another gasp from above that sent little tendrils of heat to his groin. Tom let his eyes close again he breathed in the smell of fresh washed skin, of soap and his sergeant’s own particular musk. That scent alone was enough to drive his own arousal up to a pitch he still wasn’t used to, a distinctly animalian reaction his body had learned. That scent meant sex, it meant release. It meant danger and comfort and security all at once. 

His hand crept down to squeeze his own neglected cock, pressing insistently against the restraint of his trousers. He moaned a little at the welcome pressure while Troy was panting above him, leaning over Tom a bit as his movements became a little more jerky. Tom’s hands traveled back around again, grabbing into musculature of his arse and pulling him close and steady again. 

“Sir-“ Troy gasped, “Tom.” His voice was hoarse and insistent. “Stop. I can’t-“ 

Tom heeded his warning and pulled off. Troy heaved a restrained sigh above him and pulled him to stand. His breathing was hard now, the flush to his face and neck deeper. He kissed Tom again, more roughly this time before his mouth quickly traveled down Tom’s neck to his chest, following his fingers down as they deftly unbuttoned his shirt. He pushed it wide open and kissed a nipple, eliciting a gravelly moan above him. Knowing this was a particularly sensitive part of his DCI’s body, he licked and suckled enthusiastically, being sure to give the other equal attention and Tom whispered his name again, almost in plea. Troy’s hand finally traveled down Tom’s belly and further, without preamble cupping Tom’s cock firmly through his trousers and rubbing up and down with the flat of his palm. He was not gentle. 

Tom had let his head fall back, his own breathing starting to hitch. “Troy-“ he breathed. 

“Sir,” his sergeant whispered, a cheeky smile in his voice. “How do you want to come?” The sweet, sweet pressure of his hand rubbing up and down in long, firm strokes had Tom grasping the counter behind him, knuckles white. 

“God, Troy, all over you,” Tom breathed, pulling him up and kissing him, hard. Their slowness was now gone; they each knew that this couldn’t last forever. The fact that time was always going to run out added a spice to their intensifying arousal. 

“Me too,” Troy said against his lips. His hands had begun working at Tom’s belt and fly, fumbling a little in his haste until he had finally freed his cock. Tom gasped loudly when Troy pulled him out and immediately began to stroke him, nudging his thighs apart with his knee. He was a little merciless about it but his technique was so perfectly timed, as if he’d had years of practice. Or maybe he was just a fast learner and had keenly honed in on what his DCI liked. But Tom wasn’t thinking about any of that at the moment as he leaned there against the sink, knees feeling a little weak, his breathing labored through an open mouth as his sergeant jerked him off. Troy pulled his hand forward to his own cock, straining, dripping against Tom’s lower belly. “Here,” he said. “Maybe we can come together,” he whispered, teeth nipping at Tom’s neck. “Would you like that, Sir?” 

Tom groaned again, tilting his forehead to Troy’s shoulder, trying to keep up with stroking the cock in his hand, trying to match the rhythm and tempo but it was so hard to concentrate. The first few waves began to roll over him, signaling that the end was nigh if he didn’t stop Troy now. He heard his sergeant moan against him, a heated, breathy sound that damn near pushed him over the edge on its own. It meant Troy was getting close as well, and Tom redoubled his efforts on his cock, determined to hear that sound again. The body pressed to him was hot and heavy and Troy’s hips were pumping rhythmically in time with the driving of his own cock, as if they were one and the same. The lines began to blur and behind his closed eyes Tom imagined that this wasn’t Troy’s hand at all, but his body around him. That he was inside, deep inside, in a way they had not attempted yet, but was never far from his mind in these moments. It brought him even closer until rational thought finally left him and the only wherewithal he had left was to muster up a choked, “I’m going to come-“ right before he did, his hips jerking forward of their own accord, Troy’s grip on his cock suddenly slick and dripping. An instant later Troy came too, a guttural moan rising in his throat, louder than he had been through the whole ordeal and Tom felt the hot come spill over his knuckles and down his wrist. He stroked Troy through until his body had stopped its almost mechanical lurches and they both leaned in on each other, aftershocks shivering each in turn. 

The phone rang and both their heads snapped up. Tom quickly moved to the bedroom phone and picked it up with his clean hand, holding the other up like a surgeon going into the OR. 

“Joyce?” he answered as lightly as he could, keeping his elevated breath out of his voice. 

“I’m on my way back,” she said. “They didn’t even have any rambutan.” 

“What a shame.” Tom heard the shower crank on again behind him. “I’ll open the wine. How long til you’re back?” He glanced at the clock. 

“Probably another half hour, I just left but there’s a train. Is Gavin staying for dinner?” 

“Oh, yes,” he answered, turning his hand over to avoid dripping on the carpet. “I bet he won’t even miss the rambutan.” 

He found Troy back in the shower for a quick rinse. Tom would have liked to join him but there was simply not enough room for them both. He shed his clothes while he waited, feeling no need to do it carefully. His trousers were ruined so he stuffed them to the bottom of the hamper, making a mental note to start laundry tomorrow. Luckily, he had another pair so similar it wouldn’t be noticed. 

Troy stepped out without a word to let Tom in, grabbed the towel from the floor and disappeared into the bedroom. Tom rinsed himself quickly and came out again, toweling off as he too moved to the bedroom where he found Troy already dressed in the comfy sweats Joyce had pulled for him. He was sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“You all right?” Tom asked as he pulled his doppelganger trousers on. 

Troy’s head was hanging in a way that wasn’t like him. “Yeah,” he answered. He looked up and watched Tom pull on his shirt. “It’s just…” He shook his head. “Never mind, it’s ridiculous.” 

Tom came to sit next to him, fingers moving down the buttons unconsciously. “Go on,” he said. 

“It was just so quick, wasn’t it?” Troy finally muttered. “I mean it was good, just so good, then bam, we both… then suddenly, nothing.” He scrubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. 

“I had to answer the phone, Troy.” Tom said a little teasingly, cocking his head and forcing himself not to smile too widely as his poor sergeant. “I’m sorry we didn’t have time for a cuddle.” 

Troy, who normally took his teasing in stride, suddenly stood up and moved away, putting precious space between them. In his body language Tom could see struggle and misery and his mind went back to find the chink in the evening. What had gone wrong? They often didn’t get to cuddle, sometimes didn’t even get to enjoy the afterglow; that wasn’t new. It wasn’t like his sergeant to be so wound up afterwards.

Tom’s gentle smile slowly faded as he began to feel the pangs of misgivings in his belly. And when Troy stopped pacing and finally looked at him again, his blue eyes were sad, his face drawn. Tom knew then. His instincts had been telling him for a while now, but he had quashed them in a way so against his nature that he’d not realized how off-balance he himself had been. The truth was, this fine little tightrope they walked was wavering and he’d been ignoring the warning going off in his head. 

He knew he needed to say something, Troy was waiting on him, as ever. Part of him urged levity instead of questions to sideline the trouble that was brewing, while the other part of him… well. He told himself he had to ask questions because that’s what he did. 

“What is it, Troy?” he said softly. He watched his sergeant search for words, opening his mouth as if he were going to speak but none came. He turned about the room again. 

“There are things,” Troy said finally. 

“Things?” 

“Things I want to do. With you.” He rubbed the back of his neck again. “Things I want to say. But there’s never any bloody time.” 

Tom said, “What kinds of things?” 

Troy sank down on the bedside next to him again. “Just… things,” he said with a sigh, eloquent as always. After a pause he looked at Tom, clear eyes searching in the dim bedroom light. His voice dropped low and intimate. He leaned in a little, eyes darting to Tom’s mouth. “Just once I’d like more than an hour with you.” 

Tom closed his eyes to the kiss, deep and sweet. The simple fact was that besides the physical possibilities it could open up- and this was a tantalizing thought in and of itself- more time meant something much more treacherous. It meant intimacy. In their hurried fumblings in various places they could steal moments together- the car, off some footpath in the woods, a few handsy gropes late at night in the deserted office- there had not been time or interest to talk about much. And in the bright light of day, even though they had plenty of time together while working, they both had avoided any open discussion on what this relationship actually was. Tom had never been sure if Troy simply didn’t want to talk about it, for talking about it was to define it, or if he’d been taking his cues from Tom as always, and never bringing it up. Either way, it had been working so far. 

For his part Tom had managed to keep the deeper thoughts at bay. It was easy enough to spend energy focused on the physical side of things- where, when and how their next encounter could take place. He could manage the carnal side, the want of Troy’s body when they were apart. That was easy enough to take care of on his own or stave it off until a better opportunity could be found. Anything beyond that was moving into dangerous territory. He didn’t want to miss Troy when they were apart. He didn’t want to start wanting Troy to move into the places in his life currently occupied by others. The guilt he suppressed by what they did was abated with the excuse that Joyce couldn’t give him what Troy did, not physically. But if he allowed his sergeant to move into the areas she already had claim to, then he knew there would be… complications. Decisions he didn’t want to make. He had never been the kind to creep out of things when they got difficult, but in this Tom had found himself doing it without even knowing. Even worse, he’d been so preoccupied with keeping all the lines straight in his own head, he had not considered that Troy was not bound by the same restrictions. Despite how bad an idea it would be for all involved, he was free to fall in love if he wanted to. 

Tom heard the clock in the downstairs hall chime, a lonely sound. It was also a sad reminder that now that they had finally opened the door on a conversation they had both tacitly agreed to keep shut, it would have to end almost immediately. Or wait for another time, like everything.

Or, he could quash it all right now. Tell Troy in no uncertain terms that this was all there ever could be, and they should be happy with what it was. But looking into those blue eyes he knew he could never say something like that, even if it was the right thing for both of them. Tom always tried to do the right thing, had made a career of it in fact. But in this the right thing just wasn’t… right. 

He put a hand on the back of Troy’s neck and touched his forehead with his own. He sighed, steeling himself for the trouble he was about to open up for himself. Trouble, heartache, guilt. Complications. “We’ll find some time,” he said gently. “We’ll sort it out.” 

There was relief in Troy’s eyes, and an unabashed happiness too. He slowly grinned, an endearingly shy expression he didn’t wear often. It was already eating through Tom’s defenses. 

He patted Troy’s knee. “Come on,” he said. “I’ve got a bottle of wine to open and two glasses to get through before we’re presented with this feast.”


End file.
